


Needed Company Now

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: She's not fine. She's breaking.
Relationships: Kelley O'Hara/Emily Sonnett, Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	Needed Company Now

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _last text you sent_

// _can u come over plz???_ //

It wasn’t unusual for Emily to invite Lindsey over, to ask if she wanted to come hang out, watch a movie, paint each other’s nails. She was Emily’s best friend, it was completely natural. They often spent their free time with each other, at one or the other's apartment. At least once a week one ended up crashing at the other's, the short walk across the apartment complex too far to even consider after a long day of practice, or with the comfortable weight of the blanket pinning them to the couch, too heavy to bother moving, getting up.

No, Lindsey thought to herself, what was odd was that it came in the form of a request. That there was a please on the end of it.

That’s what had her worried.

That Emily felt vulnerable enough that she felt she had to ask.

\\\ _omw_ \\\

—

_"Run it again," the coach called out from the sideline as the two halves of the team stood on the field, the girls in red pinnies cheering that they'd broken through the defensive structure to score on a simulated corner kick. "Who was marking Sinc? Who was supposed to be protecting the back post? Come on, ladies," he continued to berate them, "We've got North Carolina in four days and you know they'll eat us alive on set pieces if we play this lazy when it matters."_

_Parsons stomped over toward one of the assistants to discuss something as the teams set up again, and Lindsey took a moment to breathe, bending forward to catch her breath. It had been a long practice, and with their coach's mood, it looked like they wouldn't be getting a break any time soon. She saw Emily out of the corner of her eye, looking like she was psyching herself up for another go at the play._

_"Hey," she moved over toward her best friend, "you okay?" Lindsey hip-checked her gently, hoping to see a smile from the blonde—something had been off her all day, there wasn't the usual joie de vivre that brought up the spirits of the whole team, inspired them with her laughter and her jokes. Instead, Emily had been quiet, subdued, and her playing, too, had seemed a little less intense than usual._

_"Just glad he didn't call me out by name," Emily admitted. "I was the one who fucked up on that play." She lifted a leg to pull up one sock, and then the other. And even though she didn't sound any different than usual—disappointed in her play but seemingly sure that she could do better, that she would do better—there was something about the slant of her shoulders, the way her eyes never quite met Lindsey's, that had the taller woman concerned._

_But the whistle blew then, and she was forced to return to her spot, muscles bunched and ready, just waiting for the sound of the ball against Tobin's boot to move, to leap. And whatever worries were germinating in Lindsey's thoughts had to be pushed down, away, to focus on the task at hand._

—

Lindsey showered quickly, skipping over most of the self-care routines she relied on to ease the ache in her muscles at the end of a long day, to settle her thoughts and center her heart. And though she knew that Emily wouldn't begrudge her taking the time, Lindsey knew that something big, something important must be going on. She wasn't going to waste a moment in getting to her friend as fast as she could.

And so it was less than an hour after she'd received the text that Lindsey stood at Emily's door, wet hair pulled back into a loose bun, hands full of takeout bags from their favorite Thai place just down the block.

"Hey," Emily's voice was low, a rough rasp, when she opened the door. "I didn't—I didn't know—" but that was all she got out before her face crumpled, and she pulled the blanket around her shoulders tighter, wiping furiously at her eyes with the ends. "Come—"

Lindsey didn't let her finish, gently walking the other girl backwards into the apartment before she put the bags on the floor and closed the door behind them.

"Sonny," she said softly, wrapping the shorter woman up in a tight hug, "Em, what's going on?"

—

_If she looked back, really thought about the past few months, she would have seen it. The differences in her best friend. The secret smiles, the texts coming all hours of the day, the night. The nights when Emily begged off from another trip to their favorite club, or declined an invitation to brunch, or skipped out on a movie night with all their friends._

_But Lindsey hadn't seen it._

_She hadn't seen it._

_Maybe because Emily had seemed so good, happy. Content. After all, Lindsey, too, backed out of plans often enough. When her mom called to talk. When she had to do a sponsor meeting._

_When her boyfriend came into town._

_If she looked back, if she'd been paying attention, she would have seen it._

_But she'd missed it all._

_And so Lindsey was left wondering—_

_What else had she missed._

—

The food was cold by the time Emily's tears have stopped rolling down her face. The food was cold, the sky out side the window was dark, and the thigh of Lindsey's sweats were soaked from where the blonde's head had been. And for a minute, she thought that maybe her friend had cried herself to sleep there where they sat on the couch in the quiet room, fallen asleep to the feel of Lindsey's fingers stroking through her hair, the warmth of the well-worn quilt that the brunette had draped over the shorter woman's body to keep her warm even as she was wracked by sobs.

But Emily hadn't fallen asleep, Lindsey realized, when she heard the soft, tentative apology whispered into the dark room.

"Hey, no," Lindsey shifted just the slightest as Emily rose to sit, "no apologies, Son," and reached over to wipe at the tracks drying down her friend's face. "Tell me what's going on?"

For a moment, Emily couldn't look at her, eyes darting around the dark living room, until Lindsey cupped the older woman's face in her hands. "Sonny," she whispered softly, and watched as her friend nodded, taking slow, deliberate breaths.

—

_Lindsey had been in love with Russell for so long, sometimes she wondered if this was all there would ever be. Was this it, this familiar kind of love? Was it always going to feel like this, just a little too tight, like last year's winter coat in the new winter season?_

_But she looked at her parents, together still after almost thirty years of marriage. They'd met in high school, fallen in love, and never looked back. And her whole life, Lindsey had known that she'd fall in love the same way. She'd find a boy, they'd grow up at each other's side, and they'd spend their whole lives together._

_Like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle, Russell had slotted right into place, and Lindsey had thought to herself "yes, this is it."_

_Except ..._

_Except it was hard. It was good—at first, and at times throughout. But mostly, it was hard. And sometimes, it was impossible._

_There was a vision of what his future was supposed to look like, what the woman at his side looked like, and somehow Lindsey never quite fit. Too big, too loud, too much of everything. And no matter how often she tried to make herself fit into his mold, it had never been enough._

_Still, though, she comforted herself in bed at night, wasn't this what love was? The person who made you better, made you want to be better? Didn't her mother always joke that she without her, her father would never have come so far? Didn't her dad always say that her mother saved him from the path he'd been on?_

_And so with each failure, Lindsey tried harder, worked more to be the woman he wanted. To be the woman she wanted to be for him._

—

"Kelley—she—," Emily started before pausing to swallow, to wipe her nose on the sleeve of her shirt. "We've been ... hooking up, I guess," she admitted to her best friend. "Since camp, way back in January." She couldn't quite meet Lindsey's eyes at the confession, that for over six months she'd been involved in something with one of their closest teammates.

And Lindsey has to take a moment to respond, not quite sure where the pang in her chest was coming from. "You guess?" she asked gently, knowing that there was more, that the words hinted at the reason for the blonde's distress. "What does that mean, Sonny?"

The older woman picked at a seam on the quilt, and she looked so small, so broken, that Lindsey wanted to gather her up, hold the pieces of her best friend close, until Emily could knit them back together on her own. "Sex," Emily answered, though the word seemed to crack as they came out. "We've been having sex. At camp. When I'm in Georgia. When we're in Utah or she's here in Portland."

The sound of the pieces clicking together is almost deafening, as suddenly Lindsey can see so clearly all the things she'd missed over the last few months. "Son," the brunette said gently, scooting close enough for their knees to touch, "Emmy—"

It was a plea, or a promise, or a question. Even Lindsey wasn't certain.

"I thought it was more," Emily's face crumpled again, her tears renewed. "I was falling—I fell in love with her. I thought we were dating." And Lindsey didn't have to ask to hear what their friend's perspective had been. She knew, everyone knew about Kelley. Serially non-monogamous, a heart that somehow always seemed to escape being broken, that never seemed to fall.

"What happened," Lindsey asked, needing to know. Needing to hear it. Her fingers stroked over Emily's knee in some attempt to comfort the blonde, but still, she needed to hear, needed Emily to tell it all.

Emily nodded, struggling to get her breathing under control. "I texted her on Sunday, just about camp next week." Lindsey watched the tears gather on those thick eyelashes, saw the storms in those grey-blue eyes. "I was excited, you know?" she looked up at her friend, "it's been almost a month since we've—you know how it is."

Lindsey nodded. She did know. Every one of their friends knew how it was, going weeks and months without seeing the other half of their heart, the person they loved.

"And she didn't respond," Emily continued. "Not until this morning." She fumbled in the pocket of her hoodie for her phone, holding it out for the taller woman to read. And though she could have, Lindsey didn't scroll back through the long text chain, focusing instead on the last few alone.

// _excited to seeeeeee u. all of u. ;)_ //

// _maybe we can have like date this time? linz can cover us_ //

// _kel?_ //

And then the devastating response.

\\\ _lol, you know i follow that church and state rule. no mixing dates with my hook-ups_ \\\

It wasn't particularly cruel. It wasn't even a rejection, really. But if Emily had been searching for an answer to what was between them?

She'd gotten it.

—

_There was a heavy weight on her shoulder when she woke, and a bluish glow coming from somewhere nearby. Lindsey blinked, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, as she tried to remember where she was, what was going on._

_It came to her slowly—another game on the road, another hotel room. They'd fallen asleep on one of the double beds, The Bachelor playing softly from Emily's computer where it sat on Lindsey's lap. She must have shifted, disturbing the screensaver and activating the laptop, the bright light waking her up._

_For a moment, the brunette just lay there, breathing in matched time with the woman asleep against her. It had been a hard-fought win against Washington; harder, perhaps, than they'd anticipated. But in the last five minutes of the game, it had been a cross in from Emily that had made the difference, finding Emily with the perfect angle to score. And that was it—they'd won the shield. Even with two weeks of games left, it was theirs._

_Lindsey thought that eventually she'd get used to the feeling of winning—the feeling of coming out on top, taking home the prize. But every time, it seemed to catch her by surprise. And in the moment, she often forgot to take stock, to look around and commit this day, this game, this victory to memory. Except ..._

_Except today? Today, Lindsey wasn't sure she'd ever forget._

_It wasn't the cheers of her teammates or the crowd of fans that always showed up, no matter where they were playing. It wasn't knowing that no one could top their record for the season, that mathematically they had won even with games to play._

_It was Emily. The way her best friend had started running, hands up in the air in joy, even before the ball found the back of the net. Faith that Lindsey would get the job done, find the hole and score. How even before the goalkeeper realized what had happened, Emily was leaping for her, jumping into her arms and screaming her name._

_The room went dark again, the screensaver flickering on again, the sudden change surprising her again. And she carefully, slowly, slipped out from under Emily's weight, reaching for the laptop to close it before pulling out her phone to check the time._

_There were messages—some from teammates asking if they'd be going out to celebrate the win, her parents and brother congratulating them. And several from Russell, missed calls and voicemails and texts. It would still be early evening back in Colorado, Lindsey knew, early enough that she could call him back and hear whatever he was calling her about. She looked at the screen, and then back at Emily, on her belly now, face buried in a pillow and snoring, watching for just a moment._

_She locked her phone._

—

"Oh, Em," Lindsey exhales softly, trying to bury the rage that had erupted at the woman who'd caused this pain. "Oh, honey," she pulled Emily closer, against her chest as she shifted to lay back on the couch, "you're going to be okay." Lindsey reached for the quilt that had slipped off, bringing it up again to cover them where they lay, and stroked up and down the blonde woman's back, letting her friend weep against her chest, let her mourn what had never been.

Emily needed this—needed her.

Lindsey wouldn't let her down.

**Author's Note:**

> "Comfort Crowd," Conan Gray


End file.
